Monday, November 20, 2017

SAN FRANCISCO (MGM 1936) Warner Archive

MGM publicity of
its day declared W.S. Van Dyke’s San
Francisco(1936) the picture Clark Gable and Jeanette MacDonald, teamed for
the first – and only – time, were ‘born to fall in love’. I have often
wondered about that; Gable’s rugged manliness pitted against the studio’s
ensconced ‘iron butterfly’; MacDonald
just a little too refined to give off smoldering sparks of sensuality to match
or even triumph over her charismatic co-star's earthy animal magnetism. San Francisco is a resplendently
superfluous bit of nonsense, masterfully sold as the epitome of chic good
taste. Anita Loos’ screenplay moves like gangbusters through a fanciful yarn
about a rough n’ tumble saloon keeper, Blackie Norton (Gable) falling madly for
this regal chanteuse, Mary Blake (Jeanette MacDonald), who dreams of becoming a
great opera star. He recognizes her class, but only insofar as it will lend an
air of authenticity to his saloon, and, saves her from starvation, only to be
repaid with a conflicted romance repeatedly stalled by Mary’s ambitions to rise
above his station in life.

Above all else, San Francisco is a celebration of that
lusty bygone mecca of pre-modern infamy where anything could be bought or sold;
the hypothetical 'sin capital'
leveled to the ground by a devastating earthquake in 1906. Loos incorporates
the quake as the divining moment in Blackie and Mary’s relationship; the
feuding duo reconciled by the consciousness each almost came to losing the
other. Mary and Blackie’s resolution gets smoothed over by a third cog in this
spinning wheel; Spencer Tracy’s Catholic priest, Father Mullin. In years yet to
follow, Tracy would be called upon again and again to play benevolent clergy,
despising every moment of it. But in San Francisco, he is a sublime deus ex
machina for these bitterly star-crossed lovers; so obviously right for one
another if only she would let her tiara slip just a little and he could descend
from his ego-driven soapbox to admit man does not live by ‘bread’ alone.

San Francisco is typical of the film fare Gable’s career, as the
undisputed king of Hollywood, was built upon, shot quick and dirty by director,
W.S. Van Dyke, whose guerrilla-style film-making – bringing his movies in on
time and well under budget - was much in demand at MGM – particularly on L.B.
Mayer’s watch after the Thalberg era had ended in 1936. Thalberg truly believed
in Metro’s motto – ars gratia artis (or ‘art for art’s sake); that it mattered
not how much a picture cost to produce so long as every last penny showed up on
the screen. The profits would follow their ‘high quality’ output. Mayer,
however, preferred to keep tighter reins on his budgets. Ultimately, San Francisco emerges as a clash
between these two mindsets, begun under Thalberg’s auspices before his untimely
death and thereafter begrudgingly afforded every luxury the studio had at its
disposal by Mayer. Mayer could afford to be philanthropic where Gable was
concerned. His numero uno male star had an unimpeachable track record for
bringing in big box office.

Gable’s raw
intensity as a 'guy's guy' never
fails to impress. He remains an extraordinary figure from the golden age of
Hollywood, unique in the uninhibited robustness of his physicality, the sheer breadth
of his machismo (ostensibly, he never took his stature as a He-man seriously,
thus making it even more deliciously appealing), as well as his sadly
underrated acting chops to carry off this uber ‘superman’ persona, merely as
par for the course and an extension of his own genuine self. In reality, Mr.
Gable was a far more congenial and sociable fellow; relatively shy and much
more interested in chumming with the boys than playing the field with the
ladies. While on screen he always managed to convey something of the untamed
and unattainable; a stud that every woman swooned over. But in private Gable
had married young, and, to a much older woman who helped mold and shape his
early career. On the sly, he sired a child with actress, Loretta Young before
beginning a closeted affair with madcap comedian, Carole Lombard, who would
eventually become the second Mrs. Gable during the shooting of Gone with The Wind (1939).

In retrospect, San Francisco does not appear at all the
kind of picture Jeanette MacDonald would have preferred to add to her list of
achievements. MacDonald, so nicknamed ‘the iron butterfly’ because of her
impenetrable resolve to do things ‘her
way’ (almost as readily to lead her into temperamental conflicts with Mayer),
had nevertheless reigned supreme in Mayer’s mid-decade resurrection of the
musical operetta; having already come from a tenure as Paramount’s exotic bird
of paradise, cast mostly in director, Ernest Lubtisch’s saucy European-themed
musical mis-adventures. Metro attempted to maintain this inspiration of
European sophistication, casting MacDonald opposite Maurice Chevalier in The Merry Widow (1933). But by
mid-decade, Mayer had tapped MacDonald’s potential as half of a formidable
operatic team; the other, belonging to the studio’s resident male baritone,
Nelson Eddy (unflatteringly nicknamed, ‘the
singing capon’ because he generally lacked sex appeal). Indeed, without
MacDonald, Eddy is often a queerly emasculated figure on the screen. Yet, with
her, he acquires an unusual and highly appealing sense of place – if not in the
same league as Gable – then certainly capable of holding his own, particularly
in their melodic duets.

The bulwark
between Gable’s earthy magnetism and MacDonald’s ‘to the manor born’ gentility is Spencer Tracy’s Father Mullin. In
life, Tracy’s demeanor – particularly in the thirties – could hardly be considered
saintly. A conflicted, oft’ self-pitying and tortured artist, he drank to
excess, and chose an enduring love affair with Katherine Hepburn over marital
fidelity (as a devout Catholic, Tracy never divorced his wife). Nevertheless,
‘on screen’ Tracy remains the soul of rectitude. I suppose this is why they
call it acting. And Tracy, for all his humanly flaws, remains another of the
finest actors ever to appear in American movies. His initial screen test had
not ingratiated him to Mayer who promptly told Thalberg, “We don’t need another galoot. We already got Wallace Beery!”
Indeed, Tracy’s foray into movies illustrates the awkwardness Mayer initially
had in discovering the actor’s niche. But Tracy’s placement in the cinema
firmament is unique in that he lacks the physical appeal as a leading man and yet
still managed to become one almost by default, owing to his on-screen chemistry
with Hepburn in a series of popular ‘man
vs. woman’ dramadies produced between 1940-1960. In between these lighter
moments, Tracy also proved he could handle intense drama and stand alone as ‘the star’ of almost any genre. In San Francisco, Tracy is a figure of unruffled
fortitude and compassion – a buffer for the romantic sparing between the obdurate
Blackie and self-sacrificing Mary. She eventually forsakes her aspirations for
high culture to perform the gregarious title song at Blackie’s saloon; bringing
down the house – literally – with a little help from Mother Nature.

Plot wise: San Francisco opens on New Year’s Eve,
circa 1906. Loos’ screenplay concerns starving operatic singer, Mary Blake
(Jeanette MacDonald) who auditions for scamp nightclub owner, Blackie Norton
(Gable). Although Blackie embarrasses Mary by asking to see her legs, he
quietly softens when she acquiesces out of sheer desperation to land the job.
Blackie hires Mary after she passes out at his feet…literally, if only from hunger. However, when socialites, Jack
Burley (Jack Holt) and Maestro Baldini (William Ricciardi) hear Mary sing, they
offer her a contract at the local opera house. Alas, Mary is bitterly forced to
decline. Her contract with Blackie stipulates an exclusive ‘two year’ run.
Burley offers to buy up the contract. Blackie can name his price. But Blackie
desires to turn Mary into a ‘dolly’ – chiefly against her will, and moreover,
because he is in love with her. Mary goes along with Blackie’s ideas because
she has already fallen for him. But Father Mullin recognizes a brewing toxicity
in their relationship. He suggests Blackie loosen the yoke on their
professional arrangement so Mary can pursue her dreams of becoming an opera
star. At first, Blackie resists. But when the strain of their relationship
overwhelms Mary, Blackie allows her a brief respite from his ironclad contract.

Mary sings at
Father Mullin’s mission church and later, under Burley’s guidance, she makes
her operatic debut. In the balconies, Blackie quietly observes as Mary becomes
an overnight sensation before his very eyes. Two things now become immediately
apparent to Blackie: first, Mary has left his tutelage behind. She has outgrown
him and can manage a career better than anything he could offer her. Second:
Mary must make a decision where her future will reside – as Blackie’s romantic
life partner, abiding by his rules, and held by rights under a slavish contract
made to his saloon, or with Jack Burley – a man she does not love, but is
willing to pursue in order to advance her legitimate career. When Blackie
reminds Mary, he has not terminated her contract, merely suspended its terms
temporarily, she storms off. A short while later Mary elects to return to
Blackie’s saloon. After all, had he not ‘discovered’ her, there would have been
no Jack Burley – not even the chance to succeed as she has since. Blackie is
proud and boastful. He wants no part of her charity.

But Mary takes
to the stage in a bawdy showgirl’s costume to belt out ‘San Francisco’ – Bronislau
Kaper, Walter Jurmann and Gus Kahn’s rambunctious anthem to the city by the bay.
The packed audience, including Burley, is stirred to hysteria over Mary’s
rousing rendition. But only seconds later the earth beneath the city begins to
tremble uncontrollably. In the resultant chaos, the patrons panic and are trampled
underfoot as an epic quake strikes, literally ripping apart the city and
leveling its buildings to rubble. Douglas Shearer actually won an Oscar for
Best Sound Editing, largely for this sequence. Indeed, the deep bass rumble and
writhing of the quake is rumored to have terrified some theater patrons when
the picture premiered in San Francisco. But it is James Basevi, Russell A.
Cully and A. Arnold Gillespie’s special effects that remain a wonderment to
behold; holding up even under today’s scrutiny; an ingenious amalgam of
miniatures, full-size sets, models and rear projection; Oliver T. Marsh’s
gorgeous B&W cinematography and Tom Held’s superb editing all conspiring to
produce six minutes of exhilarating epic disaster.

Immediately
following the cataclysm, surviving citizens begin their rescue and recovery
efforts. To prevent the collapse of more buildings and stop a three-alarm blaze
from consuming the rest of the city, the fire department is ordered to dynamite
all existing structures whose foundations have been irrevocably damaged. This
includes the Knob Hill fortress of Mrs. Burley, who watches helplessly as the
family home her father built is leveled to the ground. Blackie finds Jack
Burley’s remains buried beneath a pile of bricks, still clutching a feather
from Mary’s gown. Mercifully, Mary is not among the dead. Blackie begs Father
Mullin to help him in his search. But only after Mullin realizes the disaster
has humbled Blackie before God does he lead him to the outskirts of the city
where Mary is administering to the wounded and dying. Blackie gets on his knees
and gives thanks for Mary’s survival, vowing to be a different man. Witnessing Blackie’s
conversion, Mary returns to his side; a reprise of the song, San Francisco yielding to a dissolve
from its fire-ridden decay to the contemporary metropolis it had become by
1936.

The last act of San Franciscois a fairly religious
experience. As in the days when America’s film industry was collectively
managed by self-professed pious individuals, showmen and moguls who fervently
believed in God, country and the ten commandments…even the ones they never obeyed,
the finale to San Franciscorelinquishes its zest for crass commercialism to the nation’s Judeo-Christian
allegiances promised to a higher authority. Partly to mask the dominantly
Jewish-held control of the entertainment industry, though chiefly to appease
and prevent government intervention via censorship of their cloistered
kingdoms, the moguls helped to create a vision of America indivisibly wed to
Roman Catholicism. This is embodied in the movie by Spencer Tracy’s benevolent
patriarch of the church. The film’s first and second acts are structured around
exposing the moral depravities of a city drowning in its own hedonism (highly
sanitized and glamorized under Cedric Gibbons’ superb art direction).

The reformation
that occurs in Blackie after the quake is indicative of the change in San
Francisco itself; from its Sodom and Gomorrah-esque den of iniquities to a
thriving cosmopolitan center, presumably dedicated to more altruistic human
pursuits. Viewed today, San Francisco ranks among MGM’s finest
efforts from the 1930’s and one of Clark Gable’s biggest hits to boot. Alas,
Gable and Jeanette MacDonald would never again appear together in a picture;
chiefly due to MacDonald’s discontent while shooting the picture and Gable’s
intense dislike of her. Although the property had initially been brought to
MacDonald with shared enthusiasm, perhaps wisely thereafter, she realized the
movie really did not belong to her. It remains a Gable picture, as any picture
starring Gable (save Gone with The Wind)
has remained so. There is just too much he-man on the screen to suggest anyone
else could carry their share of the load. And while Gable’s ascension to the
throne in popular entertainment would continue throughout the early 1940’s,
until Lombard’s death and Gable’s enlistment in the war deprived him of that
devilish ‘little boy’ quality he so
infectiously possessed as a grown man, MacDonald’s tenure as Metro’s grand diva
would rapidly fizzle after 1939. She made only a few films in the early 40’s,
retiring from the picture business to pursue aspirations on the stage and a
lucrative recording and radio career.

In the past we have
severely wished for more Gable back catalog to become available on Blu-ray. By
2018, this ought to have been a foregone conclusion. Alas, Warner Home Video
has kept this one-time ‘king’ a closely guarded secret in its embarrassment of
riches yet to be mined in hi-def. No Gable/no sale. How depressing. I will
pause a moment here to express my discontent with both Warner proper and the
Warner Archive (WAC) for not having taken a much more proactive stance on
releasing more bona fide classics in 1080p. While WAC’s output has been much
appreciated in terms of sheer numbers – and of course quality – their choice of
catalog for Blu-ray teeters on the verge of becoming highly suspect; with ‘B’
and even ‘C’ grade fodder like ‘It Came
From Hell’ or ‘The Green Slime’
taking precedence over movies like San
Francisco. By now, we ought to have had more than a handful of examples
from the Gable repertoire out there for public consumption in 1080p; starting
with San Francisco, and presumably,
to include such miraculous entertainments as Red Dust, Test Pilot, Idiot’s Delight, Honky Tonk and Boom Town
– to name but a handful so undeniably deserving of the honor.

Warner Home
Video’s DVD of San Francisco is
quite stunning. Most of the B&W image exhibits a refined gray scale with a
very smooth visual characteristic that is quite satisfying. Age-related
artifacts are present to varying degrees throughout this transfer, appearing a
tad heavier during the earthquake sequence. Contrast is solid, although there
is some fading around the edges of the early reels and weaker than anticipated
black levels. There’s also some very minor built-in flicker to contend with and
the occasional water damage. But what is most remarkable about this DVD is how
aggressive the bass tonality is during the earthquake sequence. Even in mono,
the sound field suddenly comes alive with a thunderous ovation of crumbling
brick, metal and glass; summoning nature’s wrath quite convincingly. *Please
note: there are two competing versions of San
Francisco currently available: the out of print (but widely available on
Amazon) legitimately authored DVD and the WAC MOD-DVD reissue. The legitimately
authored DVD contains an alternate ending, a few vintage featurettes and a
rather clumsily produced 'documentary' on Gable's career. I believe the WAC
edition has jettisoned all of these extras and is bare bones movie only. There
are no extras. Bottom line: highly recommended!

About Me

Nick Zegarac is a freelance writer/editor and graphics artist. He holds a Masters in Communications and an Honors B.A in Creative Lit from the University of Windsor.
He is currently a freelance writer and has been a contributing editor for Black Moss Press and is a featured contributor to online's The Subtle Tea. He's also has had two screenplays under consideration in Hollywood.
Last year he finished his first novel and is currently searching for an agent to represent him.
Contact Nick via email at movieman@sympatico.ca